


Prayers for the Wicked

by andrasstaie



Series: The Last Elvhen: Tales of Warden Isethari Mahariel [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Filler, Finger Sucking, Groping, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Non-Graphic Violence, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Public Display of Affection, Semi-Public Sex, Suggestive Themes, Tumblr Prompt, Vaginal Fingering, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-04-20 23:26:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4806200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrasstaie/pseuds/andrasstaie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Senior Warden Isethari Mahariel has joined the Ansburg Grey Wardens where she's met a certain grumpy younger brother to the Champion of Kirkwall. </p><p>Various oneshots revolving around the growing relationship between Isethari Mahariel and Carver Hawke and how they learn to cope with the messes that life throws their way. </p><p>All chapters are marked with their rating. Currently only chapter 5 is explicit in nature.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prayers (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While out on a scouting trip into the Deep Roads with Carver Hawke, one of Isethari's curious habits becomes rather noticeable.

“Down!”

Loosing the arrow mere moments later, it whistled by Carver’s head far closer than she’d intended. Isethari cringed, biting her lip as she ducked behind a nearby pillar. Peering out from behind it, she saw that the arrow had - at least - hit it’s mark. Having sunk deep into a charging hurlock.

“Careful!” Carver snapped, an underlying growl in his tone.

“Sorry!”

One week. She’d been with the Ansburg wardens for just one week and already she was certain her comrades were convinced she was trying to sabotage them. Or something. Carver, however, he was the first to not only audibly complain about it… but he was the first to not brush her off. Not even a “don’t worry about it” like many of the others gave her. And, somehow, she found it far more comforting. It reminded her of Fenarel, of home and the friends she yearned to see again. And never would.

“Fenedhis lasa,” she hissed to herself.

Carver shot her a confused look. “What was that?”

“A curse.” She nocked and released an arrow, ducking again to catch her breath.

“At me?”

Isethari, fully prepared to sigh and even roll her eyes, gave pause. The tone in his voice seemed off, different somehow - less gruff.  _Is he upset?_  Blinking, she shrugged the weird feeling off and shook her head - even if he couldn’t see the gesture.

“Don’t be absurd, Ser Carver.” She chuckled quietly. “That was directed at myself.”

“Oh.”

She peeked around the corner to see him pondering it, only to be distracted by an oncoming genlock. As he spun with his broadsword in hand, Isethari pulled another arrow from her quiver and took a shot. It sailed past his shoulder and sunk into the darkspawn’s thick hide. Carver soon made short work of the creature and both of them looked around. Clear.  _Finally_.

Slumping against the pillar, Isethari huffed out a deep sigh. After catching her breath, she slung her bow over her shoulder. Carver had seated himself nearby on a pile of rubble, cleaning off his blade. With care, Isethari picked through the carnage they had left behind, pulling arrows from the darkspawn and checking them over. The good ones she wiped off and tossed back into her quiver, while the others she merely cast aside before moving on.

“Why bother?” Carver asked absently. He’d paused in his work, looking up at her curiously. “We’re heading back to the surface soon.”

“Why waste?” she countered, shrugging. “Plus, you clearly have not seen me use my daggers, ser.” She shook her head, coughing to contain a strained laugh at her own incompetence.

He shrugged in response, going back to his task and leaving Isethari to continue to pick out her arrows. She pursed her lips, still staring at him a long moment. The silence was unsettling. Shaking her head, she let out another sigh and finished gathering her arrows.

She sucked in a deep breath, kneeling down and clasping her hands together. With head bowed, she murmured under her breath. A prayer, as she often performed after battle. Carver had stopped again, sheathing his weapon and approaching cautiously. No sooner had he stopped in front of her, than she finished and rose to her feet again.

“I notice you do that a lot.” Carver’s brow furrowed, head cocking to the side just a little “After every fight, in fact.”

Isethari stared at him quietly for a moment. Few had asked the question, most had either ignored the practice or hurried her along with frustrating side comments. From all she’d seen of Carver Hawke until now, he was last among those she’d expect such a question. Especially given the fact he’d ignored it up until now.

“I am praying,” she said, softly.

His mouth opened and closed a few times, confusion clear on his features. “Praying?” he finally managed. The word croaked out awkwardly, as if he’d never used it in his life. He swallowed and shook his head. “Why?”

“Because it is right?” she countered. She inhaled a breath when he met her question with a confused stare. “I find no pleasure in taking the life of another living being. No matter how wicked or necessary, a death is still a death that I must honor.”

Carver squinted slightly, his brows pulling together as he tried to work out her logic. “But these are darkspawn. What purpose would praying serve?”

“You misunderstand.” Her voice was calm, quiet even in the oppressive silence of the Deep Roads. “I do not pray for them. My prayer is to Andruil, and to honor the Vir Tanadhal. I thank her for guiding my arrows, keeping my bow steady, and all that she has provided me with the kill.”

“Vi-Vir Tanad… whatever that is. I’ve heard that mentioned before.” Carver seemed surprised even of himself as he stumbled over the words.

Isethari’s brows lifted. “You have heard of the way of three trees? Color me impressed, Ser Carver.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say I’m an expert. I’ve just heard the term before.” He smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “But I’m still confused.” His hand dropped as he spread both helplessly. “What are you provided by praying over dead darkspawn? Uh, no offense or anything.”

She chuckled. “None taken. It is a difficult concept to explain to others.” She sucked in a breath, recounting thoughts on the matter before forming them into words for him. “On a most basic level, she has provided me the opportunity to live and grow stronger. So that I may continue to protect that which is precious in this world.”

Slowly, Carver nodded in acceptance. “I suppose that makes sense.”

She offered him a small smile and a nod of her own. “Good. Let us be off, then, lest more darkspawn find us while we are ill prepared.”

The silence became more amicable then, broken only be the occasional shuffle of rock and stone under their boots. Isethari was content, casting only periodic glances at her quiet company until the dank air began to lift against the cool breeze blowing in from the path to the surface.


	2. Get Over It (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carver enjoys singing, even if he's not the best at it.

The camp had been entirely too quiet. Quiet enough that the suggestion had been made to sing. The original intent of the other wardens, however, being to get Isethari to sing for them. To which she, stubbornly and staunchly, refused.

“Well if Ise won’t do it, I will,” Carver proclaimed.

Isethari’s ears perked up slightly in interest. Grady, on the other hand, groaned. Quite audibly.

“Oye, not again. I heard ya last time. I ain’t up fer that shit this time ‘round.”

The light-haired warrior rose to his feet, declaring he would fetch more firewood. Only after grousing about Carver’s singing a few more times. Their remaining comrade, a short and dexterous rogue called Weller, began to chuckle. He clapped Carver on the shoulder, a jovial grin on his lips.

“Don’t mind that sourpuss, yeah? C’mon, give us what ya got.”

Isethari smiled, nodding in encouragement to Carver. He inhaled a deep breath, nodding quietly as he mustered up his voice. The words of the song itself came off as relatively unimportant. In fact, Isethari noticed quite quickly the mood of the tune seemed far more important. She did not claim to be an expert on shemlen songs, but she was quite sure that Carver was making up words that didn’t even exist to fill in the blanks of his memory.

Not that she or Weller particularly cared if he didn’t quite know all the words. His confidence bloomed as he merely went for it. Weller joined in, and Isethari herself began to clap and giggle as the tone shifted from a simple merry tune to quite the jaunty tune.

Unfortunately for the trio, Grady did not stay gone on his task for long. He returned with a grunt, stopping just shy of their small circle around the fire. He dropped the pile of dry lumber in his arms, a small crash echoing against the trees ringing the clearing.

“Maker. Enough is enough!” he exclaimed, exasperated.

All at once the cheeriness of the mood evaporated. Silence settled as Carver turned an annoyed glare to the other warden.

“Just because you’re a-”

“No. No!” Grady threw his hands up. “Your ‘music’ sucks and you suck.” He jabbed a finger through the air toward Carver, punctuating each word with a thrust of the meaty appendage.

Carver opened his mouth to protest, but was silence quickly. “I don’t wanna hear it, Hawke. Get over it.”

And with that, their spoilsport spun on his heel and retreated to his tent. The air grew thick with the heaviness of the growing tension. Isethari frowned, looking over to Weller. The young man shrugged, hoisting himself up and retiring as well when she gestured for him to go.

Sliding up next to Carver, she wrapped her hand around his arm. She didn’t say anything, however, merely leaned against her friend and rested her head against his shoulder. Carver, himself, was the first one to break the ever-growing silence.

“I really hate that guy.”

Isethari shrugged against him, her grip tightening against him in encouragement.

“Don’t let him bother you, lethallin. He’s a bitter jackass. I thought you were wonderful.”

Carver laughed, tipping his head aside to rest gently against hers.

“I was terrible. But thanks anyway.”


	3. Collapse (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While stationed with fellow Grey Wardens at Ansburg, Isethari is forced to deliver unexpected - and unpleasant - news to Carver.

“Oye! Ise!”

Isethari’s head snapped up, looking around to find the owner of the harsh voice. Her eyes landed on Grady, approaching her at a quick step waving a letter around in his hand. Her gaze narrowed at him, then flicked to the parchment in his hand. Without preamble, he was shoving the paper at her as soon as he was close enough. Her brows twisted together as she looked at it, then back to him. One hand rested against her hip as she stared her fellow warden down.

“What’s this for?”

“That Hawke boy. He likes ya, so you can give it t’him.” And on that matter, Grady would brook no argument. He spun on his heel and disappeared the way he came as quickly as he’d approached.

Lifting her hand off her hip, Isethari rubbed her forehead and sighed. Turning her head, she looked up toward the sky. The sun was staring to sink on the horizon, the keep washed in a fading orange glow. Her eyes dropped back down to the scroll in her hands. Her fingers glided along the side, temptation running deep to open it before going to him.

She let out a long sigh, closing her eyes and slipping it gently into her belt. There was a gnawing feeling in her gut about the matter. It wasn’t that Carver went without letters, but this one was different. She’d seen several before, they came on a monthly basis from his family. This one, however, the paper was not nearly as nice. And the ribbon that kept it closed by and large put the parchment to shame in appearances. It was red and felt like silk, soft and smooth on her fingers.

Isethari opened her eyes, collecting her bow and quiver and leaving the practice yard. She headed up the steps into the main area of the keep and quietly padded down the hall toward Carver’s bunk. The room itself was shared, but his bunkmate - Weller - had been out scouting with a couple other wardens. She bit her lip at the door. It was open, but the room looked empty.

“Looking for someone?”

A sharp, loud squeak of surprise escaped Isethari’s lips. She all but jumped out of her skin as she whirled around to face Carver. Her head tipped up as she looked at him, her eyes wide.

“Um… yes.” She swallowed, inhaling a few breaths and pushing an awkward smile on her lips. Dammit she should have read the letter first.

Carver didn’t seem off put, chuckling as he gestured to the room. “Well, come on in then,”

Bobbing her head, Isethari followed her friend into his room. He went about peeling away the layers of his armor as she stood awkwardly in the center of the room, fidgeting with her belt. Carver looked at her over his shoulder, frowning at her awkward posture.

“Ise, what’s wrong?”

She was wringing her hands, twisting and untwisting her fingers together as she contemplated. Only when Carver stopped his task and stepped closer to her did she stop and look up at him.

“I, uh…” She bit on her lip, forcing out a sigh through her nostrils. “Hopefully nothing.” It was all she could manage, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as she slid the rolled parchment from her belt.

Carver’s brow furrowed, carefully taking the letter from her hands. At once he moved away, seating himself at the desk on the far wall. Isethari, for her part, did not move. Her feet felt weighed down, too heavy to even shuffle over. She could see it in the ever growing hunch in his frame as he sat. The sinking feeling that radiated outward into the room.

Then finally,  _finally_ , Isethari found her legs could work again. That her feet would respond. When she reached his side, her hand hovered above his shoulder. Her eyes were wide with concern as she looked down at him, wanting permission to touch him. For a long time Carver didn’t move. Didn’t look up or even acknowledge she was still present.

“How…” he finally breathed out. “This isn’t…” His mouth opened and closed as he floundered for words.

Isethari’s fingers curled, but still she hesitated from making contact. “Carver…”

He flinched, withdrawing further away from her until he stood up. The paper tumbled from his hands onto the old desk, the ribbon having fluttered to the floor. His hands curled into fists, knuckles going white under the pressure. Isethari’s gaze flicked from his hands and up to his face. A wet streak drew down his cheek.

Her gut had not been wrong and it wrenched at the thought. Both hands came up to cover her mouth, to stifle the gasp. One hand over the other as she tried to regain some semblance of control and calm.  _Something_ that might help her friend feel more comfortable.

“She’s  _gone_!”

Carver slammed his fist down on the table, the wood creaking under the sharp application of force. Isethari jumped, flinching at the outburst. Yet she did not withdraw, did not back away from him. Instead she watched, observing with still wide eyes, full of sorrow and empathy.

Isethari let her hands drop off her face, but still struggled to form enough composure for proper words. To ask the right question. Moments that left her speechless were few and far between, but some circumstances could not be overcome easily. Not even for her.

An awkward silence settled, broken only by Carver’s rattled breathing. When he did turn to look at Isethari, she could see much in his eyes. Fear, pain, hurt. All of it swirled up together and spat back out into one simple look that tore at her heart.

She spread her hands slightly, hesitant to do anything except watch helplessly. A long moment passed between them as they stared at each other. Lingering until Carver broke. He took two steps toward Isethari before he collapsed forward against her. Wrapping her arms around him, she sunk down onto her knees with him, ignoring the bite of the cold stone against the thin fabric of her breeches.

Carver curled against her chest, his fingers twisting and gripping her tunic tightly. His body shook, tears falling freely and accompanying broken and strained sobs. Isethari held him close against her body, resting her head gently atop his.

“O Falon’Din,” she whispered. “Lethanavir-Friend of the Dead.” Lifting one hand up, she gently ran it along his back, tracing soothing patterns with her nimble fingers. “Guide my feet, calm my soul,” she continued. “Lead me to my rest.”

It did not matter to Isethari that she did not know who was gone. It did not matter that she likely did not know the person in question. What mattered is that she would ensure Falon’Din would guide their soul in the Beyond. It was the least she could do for Carver.


	4. Hands (M)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carver has nice hands and Isethari has been fantasizing about them. She finally works up enough courage to come clean to him about it.

“I… can’t stop thinking about your hands on me.”

Carver stopped what he was doing, staring at the ground a moment as he tried to process not only the words, but _who_ had just said them. Slowly, he looked up to see her wringing her hands awkwardly. An ever so slight smirk curled at his lips then.

“Is that so?”

She closed her eyes, swallowing the lump forming in her throat before nodding. Her eyes flew open in surprise when Carver grabbed one of her hands and pulled her into his lap. His sword having been cast aside in favor of herself across his legs.

“Where is it you’ve been imagining my hands, hm?”

Isethari's body shook in a small, but awkward laugh as his hands slowly began to explore. With each new spot he whispered in her ear, asked if that was the place in her imagination. Her awkward, tittering laugh began to dissipate the more he continued, giving way to soft sighs and mewls of encouragement.

One hand slid down further and further, cupping her ass. “Here?” he murmured, their cheeks pressed close together.

She bit her lower lip, nodding as he offered a light squeeze. And as he felt her movement, she too felt the wide smile pull at his cheeks.

“I suppose here too, then,” he mused. His other hand gliding across her front to brush over her breasts, bound and hidden beneath her leathers.

“Creators,” she whispered. “ _Everywhere_ , Carver.”

He smirked, shifting his head back away from her so he could look her in the eye. “I’ve been thinking of the same thing.” He paused, his tongue darting out across his lips. “And then some.”


	5. Never Seen a Naked Shemlen (E)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... or, how Carver proved to Isethari that sometimes it's worth trusting a shem.

Isethari had never seen a naked human before, her eyes darting up and down over every bit of Carver’s body. A smug grin lodged itself over his face. Plastered right across that tantalizing mouth of his. Isethari could feel desire spark and shoot through her body as her mind wandered at the thought of it roving over her body.

As Carver had pulled the last of his clothing away, he stepped into the cool water with her. A visible shiver running up his spine as he sunk lower into the water, adjusting to the temperature. Isethari watched him from her spot a short distance away, looking up at him from under her lashes.

He ducked his head beneath the water as he drew closer, water droplets spilling over his skin when he resurfaced right beside her. Isethari shivered as she watched in anticipation, her tongue flicking out over her lips.

“You are such a tease,” she murmured.

“Tease you?” he asked, innocently. Carver closed the space between them, his forehead meeting hers as they stared at each other. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

She pursed her lips as he chuckled, then dove in to capture her lips in a searing kiss. His arms wound their way around her body, tugging her flush against him as his tongue eagerly sought entrance into her mouth. She relented, melting into his embrace and just parting her lips to allow him access. Their tongues collided, twisting together before she retreated and allowed him to explore.

Carver let out a low groan when she readjusted herself, locking her legs around his torso as his hands came down to cup over her ass and offer added support. She draped her arms on either side of his neck, breaking the kiss for a gulp of air as she smiled down at him.

“Still think I’m a tease?” he asked, smirking.

She hummed in thought, then shrugged. “Perhaps only if you keep looking at me like that,” she replied, finally. A smirk of her own curled at one corner of her mouth.

He kissed her just below her jaw and she giggled lightly at the sensation. Tipping her head forward, she whispered in his ear. “Go easy on me,” she murmured. “It’s my first time with a sheml- _human_.”

“I suppose I should feel honored, then,” he chuckled against her neck. 

“You shoul- _ah_!”

She gasped as he nipped at her neck, his tongue laving over the spot a moment later. She could feel his smirk against her skin as he continued, exploring her neck and shoulder with his mouth. Carver shifted in the water, moving them a short distance away to brace her back against some rocks.

Carver grunted, standing up to his full height to hoist Isethari up onto the rock. She squeaked in surprise when she felt the cool rock against her bare skin. Her eyes wide in surprise, staring at Carver in wonder. He merely grinned at her, sliding his hands now along her leg as he leaned back. She began to giggle, wriggling in her spot when he kissed along the sole of her foot. He managed to duck before she could whack him with her other foot, raising his brows at her.

Isethari ducked her head aside, a blush rising over her cheeks as she offered a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I’m ticklish.”

He shook his head. “I gathered that much. I’ll…” He trailed off, eyeing her foot now. “I’ll be more careful.”

She bit her lip, nodding as she mentally prepared herself to try and avoid her automatic reaction if he hit another sensitive spot. As Carver continued, he shifted away from the bottoms of her feet, instead kissing his way up the inside of her leg. He took care to avoid any spots that he assumed could be overly sensitive, putting all the times he’d tickled and tormented his sisters to good use now.

His hands and lips skirted up the inside of her leg as he moved closer to the apex of her legs. Carver paused, his breath dancing over the bare skin before him. She squirmed a little under the heated scrutiny. Carver flicked his gaze up toward her face, smiling as he did so.

“Has no one ever…?”

She bit her lip, shaking her head slowly. There was a nervousness in her eyes, set just behind the lusty and eager look she gave him. His blue eyes flicked down a moment, then back up to her face.

“Trust me?”

She nodded, without hesitation. Carver smiled and leaned up a bit, planting a trail of kisses from her belly button back down. When he reached his goal, he began with light kisses. His lips trailing up and down before shifting across, the same pattern then repeated on the other side. Carver repeated this step a few times before he slowly began to use his tongue to explore Isethari’s folds.

His tongue moved with a painstakingly slow purpose, and Isethari began to wiggle and sigh beneath him, quietly begging for more. Her own hands ran up the length of her body, moving up over her breasts and kneading them gently while Carver continued.

She mewled when he began adding his tongue into the mix, alternating between light and teasing strokes and slower more deliberate ones. Carver settled into a steady rhythm, quick strokes and then always back to slow strokes with the flat of his tongue.

Isethari’s hands had long since slid off her body, bracing herself against the rock she’d forgotten she was atop, feeling as if she was going to float away. The sensation swelled when Carver slipped one finger into her slick entrance. The squeal of surprise quickly gave away to a moan of pleasure when he crooked his finger ever so slightly.

Her toes curled as she drew nearer to the edge. His tongue began to dance around and along her folds, flicking at her clit periodically as he worked his finger in and out. He added a second finger to the mix, but pushed it no further than that as he worked back up to his steady rhythm.

“Carver!” She cried out, feeling as if her voice was loud enough to call to the gods in the heavens themselves.

He smirked against her body, slowing his pace until his fingers - slick with evidence of her climax - slipped away. Carver tipped his head back to look up her body at her, still wearing that smug and deeply satisfied grin. He popped the two wet fingers into his mouth, suckling them clean before he stood enough to lean over her. Skimming his hands up her body, he gently massaged her breasts as his lips captured hers in a slow, deliberate kiss.  


	6. Visiting Kirkwall (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carver and Isethari finally get a break - albeit a short one - from their duties to the Wardens in Ansburg. Carver uses this opportunity to take Isethari to Kirkwall.

“Well, here it is… Kirkwall.” Carver swept one arm in a wide, grandiose gesture as they approached the gate.

“It’s… hm, bigger than I imagined from your stories.” Isethari blinked up at the towering buildings in wonder.

He chuckled, dropping his arm. “I suppose it feels smaller when you’ve been through every back alley and sewer following your sister around on crazy jobs.”

“Seems like an easy place to get lost in, to be honest.” Isethari chuckled lightly, shifting her eyes over to Carver. She stepped closer to him, lacing her fingers through his. A small smile curled at the very edges of Carver’s mouth and he leaned in a moment, bumping his arm against hers affectionately.

“Where to first?” she asked, looking back toward the city.

“We can go to the market if you like?”

Isethari’s features brightened, her ears pricking up slightly. “That sounds wonderful!”

“This way then,” he gestured with a small jerk of his head. 

Carver gave her hand a gentle squeeze before leading her off into the city and off to the Hightown market. It was only once they’d arrived that Isethari shifted from holding his hand to loosely wrapping one arm around his and leaning close against him.

“Junior? Is that really you?”

Both wardens froze in place, Carver turning first to see Varric a few paces off grinning from ear to ear. He slipped away from Isethari’s grasp and she quickly shuffled around him to see who had spoken.

“Andraste’s dimpled ass, it is!” The grin on Varric’s face grew wider as he strode up to them. “And you have a friend.”

Carver groaned slightly, shifting slightly on his feet as he resisted the urge to fidget any more than that. Isethari, on the other hand, smiled cheerfully to the dwarf.

“An'daran atish'an, ser dwarf.”

Varric’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Dalish, huh? I bet Daisy would _love_ to meet you, Sunshine.”

“No.” Carver’s voice was short and stern as he cut in, annoyance clear as day on his face. “Not right now,” he amended, quickly. Varric gave him a sly smirk regardless.

“Does Hawke even know you’re here?” Varric asked, arching a brow.

Carver shook his head. “And I’d like to keep it that way for now.” He rubbed his forehead, taking a moment to glance aside at Isethari - who appeared somewhat nonplussed by the situation. He sighed and dropped his hand. ”I… how about we come by the Hanged Man tonight?”

“For proper introductions?” Varric clarified. He nodded once Carver agreed. “Deal.”

Once Varric vanished back into the crowd, Isethari offered Carver a reassuring squeeze on his arm. She then took his hand and twined their fingers together again, smiling to him.

“Back to shopping?”

“Maker, yes. Please.”

With a giggle, she leaned in to plant a swift kiss to Carver’s cheek before leading him to a stall that had caught her attention.


End file.
